Once again, we join Leighton "Lee" Stephenson on his journey to find his new life. This is the sixth and final episode, but don't worry. I don't intend to "kill him off."
Wandering 6: Charlie
It felt quite natural to be on the move again. My initial flurry of sexual encounters with women had lasted but a short two weeks before I suffered a two month long "soft spell." I was in no danger of falling into depression over it, but I was wondering what had happened to the magic. Pattie Monahan had solved all that.
As I looked in the rear-view mirror of my Outback, I was imagining I could see her standing there, waving goodbye to me. Our little fling had lasted four nights, broken up over a one week period. She was a dynamic, talented and bright young woman that I could easily have stayed with much longer. It wasn't what she wanted. She had plans.
When I stopped for lunch, I phoned Peter Dennison, my contact at Orca Investigations.
"Hi Pete, how are you?" I opened.
"That you, Lee? Good to hear from you. You coming in?" he asked for the hundredth time.
"Naw ... not quite ready yet. I'll let you know. Don't go holding anything open on my account. I'm in no rush."
"So, how are you doing? Where are you?"
"Salmon Arm, heading for Kamloops."
"Lots of good looking ladies in Kamloops," he needled.
"Hope so. I just had a nice break in Sicamous with one. She's someone you should talk to, Pete," I said seriously.
"Oh ... how come?"
"She's got a degree in Business Admin and she's taking a course on forensic accounting. I know she wants a job in that field."
"Is her name Pattie Monahan?" Pete asked with a chuckle.
"Yeah ... I should have known. She didn't waste any time, did she? I gave her your card. I think you should talk to her," I pressed.
"Don't worry, we will. We're looking for someone in that field to start as a junior. She sounds like a good candidate. Thanks for thinking of us."
"Well, to tell the truth, I was thinking of me. If I end up working there ... well, you get the picture," I said, smiling to myself.
"Yeah, well don't expect me to save her for you. I'm a poor, lonely bachelor too, you know," he laughed.
"I've already warned her about you. Good luck!" I shot back.
"Hey Lee ... seriously ... when are you comin' in?"
"Don't know for certain, Pete, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be out here on my own for much longer. I think I've gotten over the worst of it and I'm starting to think more about the future than I did when I set out in March. Hell, it's still only June ... at least let me enjoy the summer," I kidded.
"OK, OK, I get it. No more pressure. Just take care of yourself and stay in touch. Harold and I are still serious, Lee. The job's here if you want it. We mean that," he said.
"Thanks, Pete. I've been hanging on to that thought all along. I just need to make sure that when I do, I've gotten all the monkeys off my back, capiche?"
"Yeah, I got it. Take care, Lee."
I was glad to hear they were interested in Pattie. I was confident she had something to offer. She was more mature than most juniors and was clearly very bright. She was also tough enough to work in a male-dominated environment without being intimidated. It would be interesting to watch her progress if she was hired.
It isn't that far from Sicamous to Kamloops; about eighty miles by road. I was in no rush since I thought I had a place to stay, The Ghost Town Lodge. It was a rustic resort ranch located in a ghost town a few miles north of Kamloops. I had a standing invitation to "drop in" anytime from the owner, Lew Coulson.
I met Lewis Coulson during my work as an insurance investigator. He had contacted us when fire destroyed his dude ranch in 100 Mile House and we were the insurance carrier. Lew suspected foul play, although the local fire department found no evidence of it. Lew was a straight-up guy and said he would feel better about accepting the settlement check when his doubts were put to bed. He told me that his suspicions were originally aroused when he received several unsolicited offers to buy the property at what he thought were unusually generous numbers.
As it turned out, Lew was right. Someone had torched the building, but it had been done by a pro and it wasn't surprising the local volunteer fire department had missed the signs. After talking to Lew and trying to figure out a motive, we discovered that there had been a previous land claim under dispute before Lew owned the property. When the original title search had turned up nothing to obstruct his purchase, I began to smell a rat.
Sure enough, the original title records had been hidden or destroyed, and false ones had been substituted. When I matched the phony records with records from the era of the original title, I could see that there was no comparison in the forms. Then it was a matter of finding out who and why.
It took a lot of plain old-fashioned digging, but we finally found a mining claim at the root of the mystery. Apparently, the district clerk knew of the claim, and thinking that he could get the valuable property at a huge discount, prepared the phony documents and hired a "pro" to torch the buildings.
Just one problem. The original claim had been filed with an error. They had specified the adjacent property location and the land noted in the title was virtually worthless. Nonetheless, my company was happy since they could claim against the district for our costs, and Lew was happy because he knew the truth and came out of it with a nice profit from a legitimate sale.
Over that six-week period, I might have been forced to live in motels weekdays, facing a weekly drive to and from Vancouver to my work. Lew, however, opened his home to me, a fully furnished forty-foot mobile, and we became good friends.
Lew had always wanted to have a "cowboy lodge" as he called it, and when the now-defunct town of Burnt Creek was put up for sale, he jumped at it. Within days, the mobile home had been moved onto the property, and he began restoring the buildings to create his lodge. It took two years to finish, but people came from all over the world to experience the "old west" atmosphere at the Ghost Town Lodge.
I phoned Lew from my cell and let him know I was in the vicinity and would like to stop by and visit. As expected, that turned into an invitation to stay with him at the lodge and I happily took him up on it. I arrived just after five that afternoon and was greeted by an enthusiastic Lew with a fine looking woman at his side.
After we had exchanged hearty hellos and finished with our back-slapping, Lew turned to the woman and took her hand.
"Lee, this is my lady, Francine," he said with obvious pride.
"Hi Francine, and congratulations. I was wondering if anyone would ever tie this guy down," I smiled.
"Hi Lee. Lew's done nothing but talk about you since you called. It's wonderful to meet you," she said with a bright, toothy smile. "Let's get out of this hot sun and go inside."
I hadn't been in the lodge since it was finished and I was struck by how large and wonderfully authentic it appeared. It was a timber frame construction with a huge great room and dining area and a staircase at each end leading up to several loft rooms. Lew gave me the tour and we ended up in the back of the main floor where he showed me a spare bedroom for my stay. Francine had disappeared into the kitchen to continue with the evening meal preparation.
"We're full, happily," Lew said when I asked about the business. "Have been almost since we opened. We renovated some of the other buildings for more capacity and I think we're going to have to expand the kitchen and the barn. Our guests are all out on a trail ride right now, but they'll be back soon. Why don't you settle in and we can talk after dinner. We've got a lot of catching up to do," he grinned.
I took the hint, brought my gear in, took a quick shower in the ensuite, and changed my clothes. I was looking forward to some time with Lew and learning about what was going on in his life, especially about Francine. She was a good looking lady and I was happy for my friend.
I had barely returned to the great room when the first of the trail riders arrived, stomping their feet in a hopeless attempt to knock the dust off. I noticed they were mostly my age, in their thirties, with the odd sprinkling of forty and fifty-somethings as well. They all acknowledged my hello with curious glances and then moved upstairs to their rooms, presumably to shower and change.
I wandered back to the kitchen to see if I could help Francine and found Lew there, working side-by-side with her. It looked like they had a system that worked for the two of them, but I thought I could at least contribute delivery to the dining table. I volunteered and my offer was accepted.
Francine explained that she had come to the lodge as a cook when it first opened. The room I was using was hers to begin with. It didn't take long for her and Lew to fall in love and now they sleep in the master quarters at the other end of the main floor. They hadn't gotten around to getting married yet, but I could tell it was on their minds. Lew had never married, but Francine had a failed one behind her, just as I did. I guessed she was in her mid-thirties, so she was a bit younger than Lew, who was two years older than me.
Dinner would be served at seven, and by six o'clock couples were beginning to assemble in the great room for happy hour after they had changed and showered. They were a boisterous and happy lot who got along well with each other.
I volunteered to help at the bar. Lew told me that drinks were on the house, within reason. He asked me to use my best judgement and that was all he said. Fine with me, I thought.
Beer and wine looked to be the preferred libation, although an older couple from Germany preferred vodka and lime juice. I nursed a red wine as I watched the couples interact and tried to guess what they must have paid for this two week holiday. As I chatted casually with them, having introduced myself, I learned three couples were from Ontario, two from Quebec, three from the U.S. and two from Europe.
The couple from England was the life of the party and kept everyone around them laughing. I noticed one woman, however, who appeared to be on her own. I couldn't spot a partner and she was drifting from group to group, engaging in light conversation and then moving on. When she came to the bar for another white wine, I introduced myself.
"Hi ... I'm Lee Stephenson. I'm a friend of Lew Coulson," I explained.
"Nice to meet you Lee. I'm Charlie Kennedy," she replied in a bright voice.
"Charlie? That's an unusual name. Short for ... Charlotte?" I guessed.
"I wish. It's short for Charline," she said with a look of disgust.
"Well, Uhhhmmm ... that's a very lovely name as well," I stammered.
She laughed ... more of a guffaw in fact. "Don't drink much more of that wine, Lee. It's affecting your judgement," she said with a big smile.
"I'll be careful," I grinned. "So ... where do you hail from?"
"The Big Smoke ... Toronto. I wanted a real western experience and this looked like a good bet."
"And?"
"It's great. I'm back riding for the first time since I was thirteen and I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it. And this place," she said, her hand waving around the lodge, "is fantastic. Wait 'til you sample the meals," she enthused.
